


Amnesia

by Senna_Sylvan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:49:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senna_Sylvan/pseuds/Senna_Sylvan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boy with no memory stumbles out of the Forbidden Forest. What sort of chaos will he bring to Hogwarts?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Everyone! I'm still moving my pieces over from my fanfiction.net profile. For those of you who haven't seen it before I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> I would also like to add that I think the more appropriate title for what Ryou experienced is some sort of dissociative disorder, but for the sake of simplicity I'm going to continue to call it Amnesia. :)

Chapter One

The boy took a couple of shaky steps, before he collapsed on to the green grass, gasping for breath. His had searched wildly, blindly over his chest feeling for something he knew was vitally important, though he couldn’t put a name to it. His eyes started to blink wildly as he attempted to remain conscious, although his efforts were in vain, as his eyelids slid close and remained that way. 

The unconscious body fell with a thump in the empty night, leaving only the stagnant smells of loneliness and confusion.

 

The following morning came with baby sunlight filtering through the broken green roof, falling on the boy’s face, the wind brushing over it like a mother’s caress. 

The still figure twitched once, then again, as the wind continued to play in his hair. Above him, the branches creaked, and the dirt was warm beneath his head. His hand came up to hold it, and his body curled into himself.

Where was he?

Who was he?

In his head, where he could normally feel memories, there was only a void. There was something missing and he didn’t know what. On instinct, his had felt at his chest and felt only thin cloth. His heart clenched, but he didn’t know why.

With a lurch, he forced himself to his feet, and unsteadily staggered through the trees. Faintly he could hear the sound of a barking dog. He froze, contrasting instincts fighting in his body. On one hand, he felt the urge to flee, to not be noticed. Dogs meant only bad things. Yet on the other, dogs meant people. People who could help him. Was it worth taking a risk, or staying in alone in a forest? He didn’t even know where he was.

He turned slightly to follow the sound of the dog. People... people could help.

 

Harry was silent as Hagrid taught the class. They were doing blast-ended skrewts, whatever they were; he wasn’t even sure if it was a legal breed. Hermione and Ron stood on either side of him, silent as well, one sketching and the other trying to the skrewt from biting. Harry himself was cutting up different meats and what sort, resisting the urge to cringe from the slimy, gooey... thing.

He frowned when he heard rustling from the Forbidden Forest, and glanced towards Fang to see if the dog had realized anything, but to his surprise the dog had his ears back against his head, and was as close as he could be to the wall of Hagrid’s cabin. At most, Harry had assumed that the rustling was the wind or sprites that were said to occupy the trees, but whatever Fang sensed could be dangerous.

“Hermione,” he said to his friend. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

Hermione stopped sketching, and listened. “The wind?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. “Look at Fang.”

Hermione frowned when she saw the big dog’s state. “We should tell Hagrid...” she muttered.

Harry nodded. Ron finally distracted the skewt and looked over at the duo. “Oi! What’s taking so long? This isn’t easy, you know!”

Hermione hurried over to the redhead, laying aside the half done sketch, telling Harry, “Get Hagrid.”

Harry hurried across the lawn, to where he could see the big teacher trying to help Neville. “Hagrid! Hagrid!” he called. The half-giant turned to look at him.

“Harry!” he boomed. “‘Ave yeh fed the skewt yet? Any luck?”

Harry shook his head. “No, not that. Look at Fang.”

Hagrid turned and shook his head sadly when he saw what his dog was doing. “Fang’s a big ole coward. Nothin’s gonna hurt yeh.”

“Hermione’s worried. Even Fang’s not that bad without a reason.”

The giant conceded. “Oi!” he yelled, his voice carrying over the field. “Everyone inside! Class is over for the day!”

Most of the students left immediately, pleased with any excuse to leave the blast-ended skrewts. Malfoy had only paused for a taunting shot before he too left, leaving only the golden trio behind. 

“Yeh all should go to.” The large professor told the three. “It might be dangerous.”

Harry shook his head confidently. “I’m the one who noticed it. I should be here.”

Hagrid opened his mouth to deny the boy one more time, but before he could get the words out, the branches rustled again. The four heads turned in unison to stare at the swaying branches. The students readied their wands, and Hagrid clenched his fists, swelling to challenge the threat.

And out of the branches fell... a boy? Indeed it was a boy, perhaps a year or two older than Harry. His white hair was mottled with leaves and soil, his face was caked in dirt and he was unconscious.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed. “He’s hurt. See his arm? It’s bleeding. And his chest is too? Come on, Ronald, help me bring him over here.”

Harry stood back as his tall friend helped the girl move the boy further out into the clearing. “Can you heal him?” he asked.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s not something I want to try, and anyway, Dumbledore should see him before we do anything.”

Harry nodded, aware of Hagrid leaving in his peripheral vision, “Check his arm.”

Ron agreed, pulling the sleeve up to reveal lightly scarred skin, but no death mark. “I guess he isn’t a death eater...” he hesitated in saying, but insisted, “but he could still be working for You-Know-Who.”

Hermione sighed gustily. “Honestly, Ronald. I doubt that You-Know-Who would waste his time sending a child into the school while he still doesn’t have his own body. That is what you said, Harry?”

Harry nodded again, his gaze not leaving the collapsed figure in front of him.

“Well, well.” an elderly voice came from behind him. “What do we have here?”

“Professor Dumbledore!” Harry exclaimed, whirling around. “It’s a good thing you’re here, sir. We found this boy in the Forbidden Forest.”

“I see. Well, we’ll bring him up to my office before we wake him up. Come along now.” He called over his shoulder, as he gave his wand a casual flick, levitating the body so it followed along behind him.


	2. Chapter Two

Harry couldn’t help but glare at Dumbledore resentfully, as the elderly man simply sipped at his tea, letting the unconscious body rest on a sofa he had conjured upon his arrival.

“Why are we just waiting?” he finally exploded. “Wake him up! He’s probably working for Voldemort.”

Dumbledore tutted. “Harry, my dear boy, even if this boy was awake, at the moment he’s much too weak to do much of anything. Besides, he’s not a student. Poppy would have my head if I gave her this boy too exhausted, if we don’t know anything about his family’s medical history, or even his own.”

Harry growled, and threw himself into one of the seats, aware of his friends watchful eyes on him from the sidelines from where they sat. “Fine.”

Dumbledore smiled.

 

The boy blinked, feeling a sense of deja-vu. He was somewhere unfamiliar... again. That’s right... he had woken up in the woods...

He sat up, restraining the groan that wanted to break out. Everything was blurred; his eyes strained to make sense of what they saw. An office, maybe? It was empty except for the vague form that sat across from him. “Where... am I?” He forced the words through his tired lips.

As he blinked, the blurred figure cleared, and he could see an old man sitting in the desk. He blinked again. He might not have a ton of memories, but... he was sure that people were not using quills anymore. Or the blinking contraption that was placed precariously on top of a towering stack of paper.

“Ah! You’re awake!” his frail hand reached out to steady the boy as he lurched to the side. “Don’t move too fast. You were injured when we found you, and you’ve been sleeping for quite the time.”

“Oh...” the boy murmured. “I don’t hurt?”

The man’s blue eyes twinkled brighter. “We healed you.” The man answered.

“Healed? Like magic?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Just like magic. Who are you, my dear boy, that you’ve stumbled into Hogwarts?”

The white haired boy frowned. “My name’s Ryou, but I don’t know why I’m here...”

“How about how old you are?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember anything, besides my name.”

The old man sighed. “Well, then, I suppose there’s no other choice. You’ll just have to stay here until you remember something. It’s not by chance that you’ve landed in the biggest magic school in England, and unfortunately, it’s not something I want my enemies to know. And from those wounds you had when we found you, I’m sure you have some enemies yourself.”

Ryou nodded slowly. “But you’ll try to find out who I am, right?” he asked anxiously.

 

Dumbledore nodded. “Of course. I’m sure there are people out there right now looking for you.”

...

“My lord, we have the ring” a masked figure groveled before the creature seated in the high backed chair, “We have retrieved it as you have ordered.”

“Very good, my servant,” the thin, reedy voice hissed. “Did you kill the bearer?”

The death eater hesitated. “We tried, my lord, but the ring managed to send him somewhere before we could finish it.”

Voldemort growled. “Fool! You should have killed the bearer before you took the ring! But don’t worry, you won’t fail me again.” His thin fingers waved the dark wooden wand. “Avada Kedevra.”

The body fell to the ground, still and dead, slowly cooling as the blood ceased to move.

Harry flinched, from where he watched inside Voldemort’s eyes. The bearer... who was he talking about?

 

A rough jolt woke him up, and Harry bolted upright, nearly hitting Ron who had woken him up. 

 

“Whoa there, mate.” The red head said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Bad dream.”

 

Harry shook his head. “Strange...” he flung the covers aside. “I have to talk to Hermione.”

Ron followed the boy-who-lived to the bathroom. “She’s not awake yet.” 

Harry froze, a tooth brush hanging out of his mouth. He spit and rinsed, before turning to his friend. “Fine,” he let out a breath. “Fine. It can wait.”

Ron shook his head. “I don’t know what’s got you so worked up, mate, but you have to take a break. We’re going to meet with Dumbledore after breakfast to find out what’s going on with the kid, right? Wait until then. I’m sure Dumbledore will know more than Hermione about whatever’s got you so worried. Is it something You-Know-Who wants? Someone he’s going after?”

Harry shook his head slowly, “No... someone he’s already gone after. Someone he hadn’t killed, but wanted to...”

The two boys froze. “You don’t think...?” they said together, their gazes meeting. The both burst into motion a moment later, rushing down the stairs, gasping. Hermione looked up from where she was curled up with an ancient tomb on one of the Common Room sofas.

“You two are up early.” she commented. “What’s the rush?”

Ron grabbed her hand, pulling her up and behind them as they ran out of the room. “Harry had a dream last night.” he explained quickly. “We think the boy we found last night was attacked by Death Eaters.”

Hermione’s mouth formed a little “o” as her eyes lit in comprehension. “That makes so much sense!” she exclaimed. “Why else would he have been so injured? It’s not like London is over run with magical gangs prone to mugging people. But what did he have that You-Know-Who wanted, and how did he end up at Hogwarts in the first place?”

Harry skid to a stop in front of the Gargoyle that guarded the steps to the Headmaster’s office, nearly causing Ron and Hermione to run into him at his abrupt stop. “Cockroach Cluster!” he demanded, remembering the password from the previous day.

The Gargoyle slowly creaked to the side, and Harry dashed in, his friends close behind him.

“Dumbledore!” Harry called up the stairway, “I need to talk to you. I had a dream last night.”

He stopped in front of the Headmaster’s desk. The old man looked at him with his twinkling over the gold-rimmed glasses that sat on his nose. “I expected you might. Have a seat. Ronald, Hermione, I suspect you’ll want to stay... take a seat over there.” he gestured at the couch he had conjured for the injured boy the other day. As they both sat down, the Headmaster looked over at Harry again.

“So... Tell me what you saw.”

 

Several minutes later, Dumbledore sat in thought. “Well,” he finally sighed. “I must say, this is a turn of events that I hadn’t expected. I don’t know how Ryou managed to find his way into the forest, but it definitely wasn’t the Death Eaters who left him there. They wouldn’t have chanced it... and you said that Voldemort called what he took a ring?”

Harry shook his head. “It wasn’t a ring, sir, it was the ring. I didn’t see it, but Headmaster, Voldemort seemed confident that it would solve his... situation.”

Dumbledore’s frowned deepened. “I have no idea what he took, or why he wanted it. This is worrisome.”

A small voice came from a doorway that Harry would have sworn hadn’t been there the day before. His sight glued itself to the small opening and couldn’t help the feeling that he knew exactly who was speaking. He suspicions were proven correct when the white haired boy they found in the woods peeked his head out. 

“Of course.” Harry snorted, before looking at the Headmaster. “I thought you said he was going to stay in the infirmary.”

Dumbledore hummed. “He didn’t like that idea very much.” was all he said, and although Harry could tell there was more to the story, it wasn’t the time to press. Not while his friends were there, anyway.

“Um...” the boy spoke again, looking between the two. “I think I remember what they took.” He looked down at his hands, where Harry just noticed a piece a paper crumpled in. “Last night, I had a dream.” the boy shuddered. “I don’t remember what it was about, but this is what I remembered when I woke up.”

He handed the paper over to the headmaster. On it, there was a sketch of a piece of jewelry that looked Egyptian in origin. It was a circle with a reversed triangle inside, an eye inscribed in the middle. On the outside of the circle there were five pegs, and Harry’s eyes widened in recognition. 

“Your chest...” he murmured, and Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

“If that is what Voldemort took, we have a place to start searching. But the question remains, what is it?”

The boy shrugged, before collapsing to his knees, clutching his head. “It hurts, it hurts. Make it stop, please, I don’t want this anymore. Please, I’ll do whatever you say, please, please. It hurts. It hurts” He chanted.

Dumbledore leapt up, leaning over the desk waving his wand briskly. He froze for a moment before casting a stupefy on the boy. 

 

“There is some sort of magic on him.” The headmaster said, but it’s not ours. It isn’t wizardry.” He sat heavily in his seat. “Fawkes.” he finally decided. “Go get Poppy if you would. Have her watch the boy, while I go and find something to block what ever is causing this.” Dumbledore paused before he left the room. “And Harry, perhaps it’s time for you and your friends to go eat breakfast. There is nothing you can do at the moment.”

The trio looked at each other, than at the sleeping body passed out on the floor. Hermione was the first to speak.

“The Headmaster is right.” she finally said. “Lets go eat. I’m sure we’ll hear more when the Headmaster knows more.”

Ron and Harry nodded, and followed her out of the room. Harry cast one look back, before following. There was something strange about that boy, he could feel it.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Dumbledore observed the unconscious body on the bed. It was rare he was faced with this sort of dilemma. The boy was obviously in pain when he was awake, and the taint of the magic that had constricted around the boy’s heart was not the kind of magic he was used to. However, the boy had answers to the questions that were tumbling around the old man’s brain. To wake him, or to not?

Dumbledore sighed heavily. It was times like this he wished that there was someone he could talk to and understand the situation he was in. But... it was past too late to regret it. There was no one he was willing to let carry some of his burden; he had been at war far too long to trust so much. Dumbledore might have put up the front of a kindly, cheerful old man, but his inner-self... was much darker than he was willing to admit.

The boy let out a little yelp, making the Headmaster jerk in surprise. A quick scan of the boy’s face showed he was still sleeping, but underneath his eyelids his eyes were in a frenzy of motion, and he’d frown every once in a while. A bad dream perhaps? But as the elderly man looked even closer, he could still see the faint traces of the other magic coiling around the boy’s internal organs, a strand squeezing tighter every once in a while, a tug here or there. It didn’t seem to be malicious, at least not intentionally, but there was definitely something strange.

A wrinkled, elderly hand reached out to touch the boy, only to flinch back when the magic sparked warningly.

Well, that was interesting...

 

The boy looked around. He was, again, in a room he didn’t know. But this room felt... familiar. Safe. Like home, almost, if he could remember where home was. His eyes scanned the white walls, where picture frames hung on the walls, each tilted this way and that as though someone had run their fingers over the glass without putting them back when they shifted. In the corner, a bed was tucked, black and white sheets brought up to be smooth and magazine ready. Next to the bed there was a small table, strewn with cards that drew the boy over like a magnet and metal. He picked one up. Change of Heart. The card was called, an angel half black and half white taking up most of the middle. He ran his fingers over it. The feeling of familiarity nagged at him, and he set down the card gently. 

There was also a bookcase, tucked into the opposite corner and upon closer observation, held copies of well worn books, the pages tattered and bent from years of constant reading. He smiled slightly. The books seemed warm to him. His fingers brushed over the lettering on the cover. But the language... he could read it, but it wasn’t English... The same with the cards. His entire room was a mix between the too languages. The boy shook his head. He was multilingual, it would seem, he thought, shaking his head. 

But the longer he sat there, running his fingers over items that felt safe and familiar, the nagging feeling grew, and his eyes inevitably were drawn towards the door. He could feel it, the malicious dark intent that leaked through the cracks and made him want to curl under the covers of the bed. But, even stronger was the feeling that something important was behind that door. Something he had to find, soon, before it was too late.

He froze at the sense of urgency, and before he could make the concious decision to move, his hand was already reaching out to grasp the handle, pulling the oak wood open.

There was a crack now, between the door and the wall, and the boy very carefully peaked around it, before yanking the barrier all the way open, and dragging the body outside into the safe confinement of the room, slamming the door shut behind them and making sure the lock clicked into place. 

He leaned back against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. The darkness behind that door was stronger than he had though, and it chocked him. Deep lungfuls of air were drawn in and out, until the faintness faded, and he felt like he could stand on his own. He immediately knelt down beside the body, fingers brushing hair away from the face.

He knew this person. He knew this with as much deep rooted confidence as he knew about the pictures on the walls, and bed. The same way he knew what a bed was, what was white and what was red. It was knowledge that was ingrained into his body, and somehow felt even deeper. Like it was engraved into his soul.

The boy smiled, staring at the face in front of him. He felt safer here, with this person with him. He didn’t know why, but all the worries that had been burrowing into his subconscious, all the anxiety that had been churning his stomach dissipated the longer he sat next to him. 

“Yami...” he murmured, the word appearing on his lips. The boy reached his hand up slowly, covering his mouth with shock. “Yami,” he said again, and continued to repeat it. “Yami, yami, yami. You’re Yami!”

The figure on the floor groaned, and the boy fell silent. “What happened?” Yami croaked.

The boy grinned. “I remembered you!”

Yami frowned from where he lay. “Remembered?”

The boy nodded, still cheery. “I don’t remember anything. But I know you’re Yami.”

The other’s brows rose. “You don’t remember anything?” he asked incredulously. “How could you forget everything?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t remember. But I found you behind that door.” He pointed.

Yami rolled his eyes, groaning again as he rolled to his feet. “That’s where I should be.” he gasped, lurching to keep his balance, moving unsteadily towards the door.

The boy gasped and he gripped the others arm tightly, preventing him from moving forward. “You can’t go out there.” he insisted. “It’s dangerous!”

The yami laughed. “I am well aware of that. But I cannot stay here, either. This is your room.”

The boy shook his head stubbornly. “If it’s mine, than I can tell you I want you to stay.”

“Ryou...” the yami sighed, trailing off. “Landlord,” he started again, a little more firmly. “Let go. You can’t help me if you don’t remember anything, and I need to make sure that the magic doesn’t make it through your defenses. I can’t do that from in here.”

“Ryou?” the boys asked, his eyes in the distance, ignoring the yami’s insistence. “Is that my name?”

The yami growled irritably. “Yes, yes. Now you need to let go.”

Ryou (the boy was leaping around with joy inside his head) shook his head again. “I said no! I feel better when your here.”

The other scoffed. “That would be a first.”

“I do!”

Yami puffed up, his mouth open to refuse again, before his eyes seemed to catch something and he wilted. “Fine.” he conceded. “I’ll stay here before you’re awake. I suppose I’ll tell you whats going on as well, as long as I’m here.”

Ryou smiled.

 

Dumbledore was deep in thought when the boy’s eyes snapped open, and he only noticed when the boy started to get out of bed. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “You’re up. I didn’t notice, I was so deep in thought. So,” his hand reached out to push the white haired youth’s body back to the couch, “what did you remember?”


	4. Chapter Four

Dumbledore was deep in thought when the boy's eyes snapped open, and he only noticed when the boy started to get out of bed.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "You're up. I didn't notice, I was so deep in thought. So," his hand reached out to push the white haired youth's body back to the couch, "what did you remember?"

Dumbledore watched as the boy blinked a couple of times, his question not registering in the other’s over stressed mind. “Hmm...” the boy mumbled.

“I suppose your mind is still a little tired... I asked if you remembered something.”

Ryou hummed, the images whirling around in his mind. He was happy he found his name. It felt right, like something had been clicked into place.

The moment he had seen Yami he had been caught up in a whirlwind of unattached emotions. Fear, pain, but also a sense of guardianship and protection. Whoever Yami had been, whatever he had done, Ryou had felt safe when he was with him.

But he wasn’t going to tell Dumbledore any of that. “My name is Ryou.” he murmured, wanting to be helpful, though he was loathe to tell the kind headmaster about the other boy that had been in his head. It was his secret, and he was terribly, surprisingly obsessive over it.

The headmaster hummed at the boy’s outburst. “Ryou...” he said the name, testing it on his tongue. “It is not an English name, is it?”

Ryou shrugged. “That was all I remembered.”

The headmaster’s bushy eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Are you sure?” he questioned.

The white haired boy flinched at the elderly man’s tone, though the defiant look in his eye did not fade. “I am positive. A few flashes of colors, perhaps, but nothing that would make sense... voices, wordless voices, but again, there is nothing that I can give you that I haven’t already.”

And despite all that these people had done for him since he had woken, he did not regret the lie.

 

Harry, on the other had, experienced a dream with a much less pleasant ending. 

“Where is he!” he felt the words hiss out of his mouth, swirling agitatedly around the stone room. The temperature was cool, almost cave like, and the sounds echoed back to join the lazy swirls. Around him, he could feel his followers tremble in fear and he relished it..

Malfoy stepped forward. “I don’t know, my Lord. One second he was within our sight, and the next he was gone. It is though he vanished.”

“Impossible.” His voice dropped into a hissing growl. “The boy has no magic on his own, and he did not have the item when he escaped. Crucio.”

Malfoy dropped to his knees screaming. 

He hummed silently in appreciation. Torture did his broken soul good.

Red eyes scanned the room. “Goyle. Find the boy. Take Bellatrix. Bring him back alive.”

The masked man bowed, and gesturing to the wild eyed woman on his left, apparated out.

Voldemort nodded. Now than, our weapon...”

Harry gasped, his chest heaving. No matter how many times he felt it, Voldemort’s anger was over-whelming. Crushing. It was always a heavy, burning weight.

Dumbledore. He needed to get to Dumbledore. Stumbling out of bed, he couldn’t help but mumble a thank you to the powers that be, that he hadn’t wakened anyone. The trip to the Headmaster’s was much the same. 

He couldn’t help but feel a small amount of trepidation as he opened his mouth, the password ready on the tip of his tongue.

“Come in!” Dumbledore called merrily before the words escaped his mouth. The Gargoyle sneered at him as it shifted way, and Harry quietly made his way up the steps.

“My dear boy, what brings you up here at this hour of night?”

Harry shrugged, suddenly feeling like he had over reacted. “Nightmare.”

“Come in, come in.” the headmaster gestured into the room, motioning him to sit next to the albino boy. “Lemon Drop.”

Harry shook his head. “No sir. Sorry sir, this could’ve waited till morning.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “It is no problem at all,” he assured, “I was up already anyway, and some nightmares are more horrifying than others. I assume this one deals with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as well?”

 

Harry nodded, glancing at the boy next to him. “Yes sir, he was looking for someone who got away. He was very angry.”

He could feel the boy next to him tense, and when he looked, he saw that the white of his eyes showed as well.

 

“Do you know who Harry’s talking about?” Dumbledore asked.

The boy shook his head. “No, but... I feel it. The anger, the hurt... It’s familiar. I’ve felt it before but... I don’t remember. Could it have been me?”

Harry frowned. The boy was hiding something, his instincts from years of snooping insisted so, but he didn’t think it was anything dangerous. 

Dumbledore was already shaking his head. “If you were that important, you would have been injured. Chained. Voldemort wouldn’t have dared let you escape. Tom is not that foolish.”

The boy frowned, but accepted the excuse.

Harry didn’t.

“Well, drink your tea, and then you two had better be getting off to bed. It’s late, after all.”


	5. Chapter Five

Bakura growled as he felt the lash of magic striking against his container. It was odd, he thought, that just a little while ago he would have been thrilled at the prospect of escape. Now, though, he was throwing all of his might into keeping the foreign magic out.

He let out a low growl as another wave of magic tried to force its way in.

He was glad, in a way he had been sure that he had forgotten, that Ryou had gotten away. He might have been damaged when the spirit had put all his effort in to separating from his host and transporting the boy in a random direction, but he wasn’t here.

Bakura could feel the evil twirling languidly through the air.

It was more sickening than anything he ever would have done. Soulless. Hopeless. There was no driving force behind the evil. It just was.

It was something that had broken long ago, and there was no longer a chance of fixing it.

He smiled as he felt his host presence peek out of the door. He didn’t understand why their link still held though they weren’t together, but he wasn’t complaining. 

It was nice, he mused, to not be so alone.

But he’d rather die than admit it.

 

Ryou woke up the next morning with a smile on his face. He didn’t remember going to sleep, but he knew he had to because he had spoken to Yami. 

He felt more settled now that his memories were returning, but at the same time, there was a growing suspicion about who he was with. Ryou had learned to be suspicious of people early on, when he couldn’t remember what the spirit of the ring had been doing when he was taken over, and often blamed for things the other had done. The fact was, he knew now, that although he believed in magic, this magic was so far separated from his kind, that he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Conjuring, transfiguration. He’d heard of all these things before, but had dismissed them as fantasy. Neither the Pharaoh or the Thief had known of such magic.

His magic was war magic, and he had thought that there was nothing else to it.

But there was.

Ryou smiled, as he made his way across the field in the weak, early morning sunlight. No one else was awake yet, so making his way outside had been ridiculously easy.

He needed to contact Yugi. Bakura had reiterated the thought last night, and Ryou knew that it had been a huge sacrifice on the spirits part to even suggest it. 

He finally spotted the barn. Apparently, from what he had heard, wizards used owls to send mail. And the school just happened to have it’s own little flock of them for students who didn’t have their own.

He grinned when he looked around the large barn. “Owls,” he called, “is anyone willing to send a letter for me?”

There was a sound of rustling feathers, before a big brown one floated down to land on his arm. “Alright,” Ryou told the owl, “I need you to go to Japan to deliver this letter. Can you do that?”

The owl hooted with contempt.

“Okay!” Ryou pseudo surrendered. He attached the letter to the owl’s leg. “There you go. Don’t let anyone catch you.”

The owl took off, and Ryou couldn’t help but wonder if his clenching stomach was a hint of the things to come.

 

When Ryou got back to the castle, he found that it the halls were a bit busier than when he left. He groaned at the thought of the difficulty of getting back to the headmaster’s office. He knew that the old man was getting suspicious, but he couldn’t help the fact that he wasn’t able to guilelessly trust the man. However, he could hardly let the matter simmer between them when the headmaster was his only protection.

He wasn’t, after all, in Japan anymore.

He was panting by the time he finally managed to find the office. If only the castle wasn’t so hard to navigate, Ryou thought wryly, people would have a lot more time that wasn’t wasted on figuring out where everything is.

He raised his hand to knock on the door. However, before his hand met the wood, the Headmaster’s voice drifted through.

“Come in”

Ryou slipped through the the opening. “I think we need to talk.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Of course, my boy. I assume this has something to do with your memory returning?”

Ryou nodded. “I suppose I should tell you how I ended up here.”

“I’m sure it’s a spectacular story.”

Ryou grimaced. “You could call it that. The first thing you have to know, is that two souls inhabit my body. My own, and that of a 3,000 year old thief from Ancient Egypt. I wasn’t born that way, though. Rather, though we are two parts of the same soul, he resides in a ring called the Millenium Ring that is actually a very powerful object that was thought to be lost.

It was so powerful, that a certain Dark Wizard heard about it’s powers, and desired to possess it.

It had been normal day. I had been getting ready for school, when I heard something crack in the living room. I thought the spirit had broken something again. However, they were wizards, Death Eaters, I believe they are called. They asked me if I possessed the Ring.

I said no. It wasn’t the first time someone wished to take the Ring, and I was prepared to fight for it. The Spirit took over my body then. It sensed that there was something different about these people. There was a fight then, and the spirit had drawn on the magic of the ring. It managed to deflect many of the spells they sent at us, and the spirit killed at least three of them with his knives. 

I had thought that we were going to win.

It was only at the last minute that the Death Eaters showed their trump card.

They had some sort of spell that must have been created to stop him. The spirit was locked back into his soul room, though our connection held. With just me, it wasn’t hard for them to immobilize me. It was then they realized that they couldn’t take the ring, even if the spirit was taken care of.

The ring had embedded itself into my chest.”

Ryou paused, and smiled at the disgusted look on the headmaster’s face. “It wasn’t that bad, Headmaster Dumbledore. When I first recieved the Ring from my father it was always imbedded. It’s only in recent years that it hasn’t been.”

“My poor boy. It’s just wrong.”

Ryou shrugged. “They didn’t create the Ring to be pretty, Sir. It was a weapon, and as such, it required security measures to insure that it wasn’t taken.”

Dumbledore simply nodded. “Well, continue your story, if you would.”

“Anyway, they realized that they couldn’t simply take the Ring. I heard them talking about killing me, but the one who seemed to be in charge realized that if I died, they would lose access to the Ring and the Knowledge they would need about it.

It was a good choice. Not everyone can harness the Rings power, a misconception that seems to be popular among those who wish to take it back. The item is almost cognisant. It chooses its own holder.”

Dumbledore interrupted. “That’s not possible. A spell programming an object to do a specific duty, such as the hat maybe, but even the hat was a living being at some point. It’s why it’s really one of the only one of its kind.”

The white haired boy nodded. “The spirit says that’s true enough, except that the items were made in a way that was never replicated. Mixed in with the gold is the blood and bones of 99 people.”

Dumbledore, in that moment, lost his composure and gaped. “That would have made it...”

Ryou nodded again. “Very powerful.”

Dumbledore leaned back. “This is what attracted Tom, I presume.”

The boy shrugged. “I would guess so. Anyway, after that, things went downhill fast. I don’t remember much of it, but from what the spirit tells me, when we met the so called Dark Lord, he unloaded a ton of curses in hopes that he could pry the ring from my chest.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Don’t worry,” Ryou reassured, “He didn’t sway the ring. While this was happening the spirit managed to fling me away, but the Ring wasn’t able to follow. Voldemort still has the Ring, but he can’t make it work, nor will he be able to find the Ring.”

“Then the next step,” Dumbledore mentioned after a couple moments of thinking, “would to be to see if we can get you home...”

He trailed off when Ryou began shaking his head.

“Voldemort still has the spirit. I want the Ring back.”

The old man’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “My dear boy, don’t you think that’s a little dangerous? It’s not just anyone you are going to be going up against--”

“I know that,” Ryou interrupted, “which is why this morning a sent a letter asking for a cavalry.”


	6. Chapter Six

Yugi was ruffling through his duel deck, leaning against the counter of the game shop, when he heard a tapping sound at one of the windows. He glanced over, and gaped.

/Yami!/ He cried.

The old pharaoh groaned as he woke up, and asked sleepily, //What’s wrong, Abiou? I do not sense any danger.//

Yugi growled, a soft sound that was not as threatening as he hoped. /There’s an owl at my window. How’s that normal?/

Yami sighed as he appeared translucently next to his host. //We used to use birds to send messages all the time when I was a pharaoh.// he shrugged. 

/We haven’t used birds since we discovered the telephone./ Yugi dismissed the pharaoh’s reminiscence easily. /The more important question is why is it here./

Yami nodded. The owl tapped at the window again. //I suppose you should just let it in.//

Yugi sighed. /I guess your right... You let it in./

Yami startled. //No! It’s your body. And you woke me up.//

/But if it is dangerous, do you really want me opening the window?/

//No...//

/Than you can open the window./

Yami growled soundlessly. He loved his light, he really did, but sometimes the boy was too conniving for his own good. 

With another glance over at the window, Yami had to admit, that the owl was a strange occurrence. It wouldn’t surprise him if one of his numerous enemies had trained the bird just to catch him off guard. //Fine.// The pharaoh surrenedered. //But you’re going to owe me.//

Yugi giggled at the childish display of the pharaoh, appearing beside him. /Of course, Yami. You miss your beauty sleep./

//It’s not beauty sleep!// The pharaoh objected as he slowly opened the window. The owl fluttered gently inside, and Yugi moved curiously forward. //It’s completely normal to want to sleep a full eight hours.//

Yugi shrugged, surrendering the argument to the pharoah. /Is that a letter on it’s leg?/

Yami nodded. He slipped the scroll out of the hostler, and opened it. //It’s from Ryou. He says he needs our help... and he’s in England!//

Yugi’s eyebrows raised. /I hope there’s nothing wrong./

//Of course there somethings wrong! The Thief would never let Ryou ask for help if he could help it.//

Yugi frowned. /We need to get to England./

 

The next day (2) Yugi walked into London International Airport with a bag slung over his shoulder, and the Millenium Puzzle gleaming around his neck. His purple eyes scanned the people bustling around the port, looking for a familiar white head. 

His smile burst out when he saw him. “Bakura-kun!”

The albino smiled when he saw his friend. “Yugi-kun! You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

“I only hope I can help.”

“I’m sure you can. But we can’t talk here. follow me.”

 

Yugi stared in awe at his friend, as he wove a tale of magic in the ratty bar called the “Leaky Cauldron.” Magic was real? Wizards? Yugi had expected many things when he received Ryou’s note, but learning that wizards actually existed wasn’t one of them. A megalomaniac sure, but magic? Real, abracadabra magic?

//The Tomb-Raider needs help?//

Yugi rolled his eyes at the Spirit’s comment. /Is that all you got from Ryou-kun’s explanation?/

//It was the most important part.// Yami defended himself.

Yugi sighed. His Yami was never going to change... Ryou cocked an eyebrow curiously at the silent exchange. “Did the Pharaoh says something?” he asked.

“Yami finds the Tomb-Raider needing to be rescued hilarious.”

“Of course.” Ryou nodded in understanding. “I’m sure that my yami would find the reverse situation just as funny.”

Yugi smiled, and ignored the pharaoh’s objections that he would never need the Tomb-Raider to rescue him. “So, you mentioned a school?”

 

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, waiting for Ryou to return. Ever since the boy had gotten his memories back, he had been like a closed book, not willing to talk about what he recalled. It made dealing with him beyond frustrating. Dumbledore knew the history of every student in the school: their family situations, their parents, their friends. Nothing was secret. But this boy, with his ties to Voldemort was a mystery. A blind spot.

And Dumbledore didn’t like it.

 

Oh, he had thought he had the boy figured out when he told him how things came to be, but the rejection of his help...

A knock came from his door, and he looked up to see the white haired boy in question walk in, a boy with fiery, spiky hair behind him.

“Hello, Ryou.” he greeted. “Who’s your friend?”

The smaller boy stepped forward. “I am Yugi Motou. Bakura-kun called me. He told me that he needed help?” He spoke in slightly accented English.

Although the question sounded sweet and innocent there was a steel undercurrent echoed in his eyes. Dumbledore almost frowned as he came to the realization that the boy was judging him. That his reply would determine something that was important.

Impertinent brat! (Dumbledore was very aware he sounded much like Severus at the moment.)

“We found your friend amnesic a few days ago. Just recently, he has regained his memories, but also remembers that his magical object was left behind.”

“His Ring.” ‘Yugi’ corrected, eyes darkening to a scarlet and narrowed in a frown as he came to a decision. “How were you planning to retrieve it, and more importantly, why?”

Dumbledore flinched at the question, well aware of the jab at his morals. “I was going to plan a raid with the Order of the Phoenix. They’re a group of wizards and witches who’ve joined together to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I am personally involved in the leadership, and will speak for their loyalty.”

Yugi nodded at the answer, but pushed on, “And why are you so willing to throw your own forces lives away to retrieve the Ring. The only real knowledge you have of it is what Bakura-kun has told you of his power, and the spy you no doubt have. From what Bakura-kun has told me, Voldemort has not accessed the Ring’s powers, and as such is unaware of their full capacity, and the destruction they can wreck. Even if he had found records, the Nameless Pharaoh and the Tomb Keepers were sure to keep the full of the information secret.”

The old man sighed. “My dear boys, I only want to help. We can’t risk leaving such a potentially powerful object in the hands of Tom.”

“But the real question is,” the Pharaoh spoke solemnly through Yugi, “will you keep the Ring after you retrieve it, and attempt to keep the power for your own side, making us your enemies, or will you return the Ring to Bakura-kun as it is rightfully his?”

Dumbledore let out another long breath. “I would, of course, like to use the power to defeat Voldemort.” He paused, and let twinkling blue eyes scan over the two foreign boys standing before him. “But the longer I think on this, the more I feel as if making you two my enemies would be a bad choice. As it is, I’m already fighting Voldemort and the Ministry. All I can do is ask you both to consider helping us in our plight.”

 

//Miserable fool!// Yami snarled inside Yugi’s head, //Thinking he can fool me into agreeing to help him.//

Yugi nodded in agreement, lurking in the back of their shared mind. /But we need his cooperation for now. We can worry about afterwards when we have the Ring back. No matter how irritating it is, better the Tomb Raider be in Ryou’s hands than yet another evil enemy./

//...I suppose you’re right.// Yami conceded. //But to dare to fool a pharaoh. I want to mind-crush him to oblivion.//

/So do I. He’s trying to manipulate all of us. But for now, we need his help, if just to avoid attention. We don’t need any more enemies./

//I don’t know, it’s been rather peaceful lately.//

/Yami!/

Yugi looked up, his eyes back to his usual amethyst. “We’ll think on it.” he said. “Is that all?”

The old man nodded, his eyes still scrunched ominously. “Do you need your own room, or will you be sharing with Ryou?”

Yugi smiled sharply. “I’ll stay with Bakura-kun, if you would.”

 

Dumbledore nodded and watched silently as they left.

Neither Ryou nor Yugi spoke as they walked back to Ryou’s rooms. However as soon as the door shut behind them, they started planning.

If Dumbledore wasn’t ready to move by tomorrow, they would be willing to take the risk and go in by themselves.

Even if Voldemort didn’t break the Ring’s defenses, it was only a matter of time until Bakura and the Ring would be unable to keep up their constant defense, and would eventually break under the constant magical attacks.

And neither the Pharaoh nor Yugi wanted the Tomb Robber to be their enemy.

 

Again.

(Besides, they were sure that Ryou wanted to be reunited with his slightly homicidal Yami.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue if the ancient Egyptians used birds to send mail. But if they didn’t... Creative license.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yugi and the Headmaster meet.

Ryou answered the door at the first knock. He had been given his own room shortly after he regained his memories, and had been expecting Yugi to stop by as soon as he had finished talking to Dumbledore. He had expected the pair to take a little longer, however, because Dumbledore could be irritatingly difficult to talk to. 

So he was surprised when he opened his door to find Yugi’s bright amethyst eyes sparkling up at him. “Ryou!” the smaller light exclaimed, throwing his arms around his middle in a frantic attempt to see if there was anything wrong. “Are you alright?”

Ryou smiled at the other boy’s concern. It was refreshing to know that someone cared about his well being. Well... the wizards claimed to, but it was caring in such a detached way that it didn’t register. He didn’t know the wizards and they didn’t know him. He had been alone so long it would take more than what the wizards had offered him to accept their help as genuine. He had no doubt that they were wondering why Voldemort had targeted him, and how they could use it to their advantage.

He smiled, and closed his arms around the other boy, feeling himself start to relax for the first time in days. He hadn’t realized how stressed he was about his missing yami and memories until he felt the comfort the other boy offered him. “I’m fine. These wizards have an interesting type of healing magic. All the physical injuries are gone. It’s like they never happened in the first place.” He motioned for Yugi to follow him into the sitting room. “I’m afraid I only have one bedroom. You can have the bedroom, and I can take the couch.”

Yugi smiled at him, his eyes flicking up and down his body, taking in his condition. “Don’t worry about sleeping arrangements yet,” he teased, sitting down on the couch and pulling Ryou down next to him. “We just spoke to Dumbledore.” His eyes flashed red, and the smile morphed into a frown. Ryou knew that the Pharaoh had taken control for the moment. “It is interesting magic.” the Ancient spirit agreed. “But these people are undoubtedly dangerous. I don’t think we should remain longer than we have to. Dumbledore was already trying to get us to join his fight.”

Ryou nodded. “Did...” he started, but trailed off, his hands fisting his shirt where his Ring would usually lie. “Did Dumbledore tell you anything about Bakura?”

‘Yugi’ tilted his head, his hands held still in his lap. “A little. He doesn’t know anything beyond what you told him, but what he does know is incriminating enough. He says, that after we retrieve the Ring, he’ll give it back. But he knows how powerful the Ring is and he wants to use it.”

Ryou frowned. “He couldn’t. I’m the Ring’s bearer, and Bakura says that it won’t pick another until I die.

Yami frowned back through Yugi’s face, and Ryou giggled at the grim look, dropping his hands, and letting that hopeful, light feeling sneak back in. He could tell by the way the Pharaoh’s mouth upturned into a small smile, that Yugi had rolled his eyes at Ryou’s reaction. “Yes,” The pharaoh continued, his voice grave, “I suppose that’s true...” He trailed off, fading into the background as Yugi made his appearance. 

“Well.” The shorter boy announced, bouncing to his feet, filling the room with playful energy. “We’ve just gotten here from Japan, and I’m afraid that we’re terribly tired. Bakura-kun, you look tired too. Why don’t we all sleep on it and meet up again in the morning?”

Ryou smiled. “Alright. I suppose I am a bit tired.” In contrast to his words, the boy swayed as struggled to get up and show his guests their room. Yugi put a stop to it quickly. 

“Stay, Ryou. You don’t look like you’ll make it to the bedroom.” he moved over to the white haired boy, hands firmly on the other’s shoulders and pushed him back down. “Stay here.” he commanded. He then moved to the bedroom. Ryou heard him pull off the top cover of the forest green bed sheets,and the soft sound of moving a pillow. When he made it back to Ryou, the white haired boy had begun to sway back and forth and blink rapidly. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

Yugi smiled. “Go to sleep, Bakura-kun. We can talk in the morning.”

The white haired boy drifted off, feeling the tension that had been plaguing him begin to dissipate. He finally felt that they now had a chance to make everything right. 

 

Dumbledore watched the door click firmly behind the child that their guest had invited. Yugi Motou, he called himself. The Headmaster hummed thoughtfully. Though he hadn’t meant to, the boy had managed to answer some of the questions he had about this item that Ryou had lost.

He hadn’t known much about the Ring other than the fact that it was a powerful magic artifact that Voldemort had been trying to summon. The Dark Lord was being extremely closed lipped about what it was for, and Dumbledore couldn’t find any references to such an ancient object in the school library. Voldemort himself must have found it in some obscure text. 

But the boy had unwittingly let him know that it was something that would be a powerful weapon if it was in his hands, powerful to an extent that even the dark lord would underestimate his power. He also committed the terms nameless pharaoh and Tomb Keepers to memory, sure that they were the key to finding out what the boys were hiding. 

He knew that his followers would expect him to help the boys get their ring back, and then return them home. But for a moment, he couldn’t help but contemplate what would it be like if he kept it? How much easier would it be if he had that weapon? Maybe, he thought recklessly, just maybe this was the power the Dark Lord knew not. Maybe Harry was meant to have this ring, not some little Japanese no one. 

The thought hung heavily in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. =.= This summer has been busy. But this story should be finishing up in a couple chapters. I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Ryou woke the next morning with a lighter heart than he had since he regained his memories. He finally felt that he had someone on his side. Even if the Pharaoh and the thief didn't always have the best relationship, he knew that Yugi would make sure that the Ring was returned to him like it should be. He also knew that both Yugi and the Pharaoh would do everything in their power to make sure that the Millenium Items stayed out of the wrong hands... both Dumbledore's and this Voldemort's.

He smiled as he made his way out to the couch where Yugi had somehow tricked Ryou into letting him have. His grin widened when he saw the spiky tri-colored hair sticking up out of the cocoon of blankets the King of Games had wrapped himself up in. He thought for a moment about waking him up, but he remembered the time difference between England and Japan and decided to let his friend sleep off most of the jet lag.

He turned around and headed to the bathroom, intent on relieving himself and brushing his teeth in preparation for the day.

Yugi slept for another couple of hours, and in that time Ryou had managed to summon a house elf to ask for breakfast, as well as cleaning his room, the bathroom, and the hallway where Yugi had dropped his stuff off last night. He cleaned when he was nervous, and knowing what lied ahead definitely made him nervous.

Finally, though Yugi woke up. Ryou smiled when he saw his short friend stumble into the room. Yugi's hair was droopy with sleep, and his over sized pajamas made him look even smaller than he was. The smaller boy made a face at his friend.

"I know what you're thinking." he grumbled. "Stop it. I'm not that small."

Ryou hid his smile behind his hand. "Of course." he said agreeably. Yugi, though grumpy in the morning, looked more like a disgruntled baby bird.

"I'm not!" Yugi protested louder, but ruined the effect by bringing one hand up to sleepily rub over his eye. A moment later they flicked to the corner where Ryou supposed the Pharaoh was.

"Oh, be quiet." he mumbled.

Ryou laughed again, but Yugi glanced at him again, and the look in his eyes made Ryou know that Yugi hadn't forgot about him. It was a nice feeling. He tended to be invisible when Yugi was around his other friends, despite the King of Game's best intentions. He knew the Yugi would kill himself if he ever knew how much his unintentional forgetfulness hurt, which was why he had never mentioned it.

Well that, and the fact that he had a homicidal dark possessing him half the time. He wouldn't wish to allow the thief access to any of his friends if he could help it, not while he was behaving like a sociopath.

Though, he thought to himself, his hands twisting nervously in his shirt, his Yami had been behaving much better in the months after Battle City. Sometimes he wondered if his Yami just tired of the revenge thing after it blew up so spectacularly in his face.

A hand waved in front of his eyes. "Is anyone there?" Yugi asked teasingly.

Ryou laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to being around people other than my Yami for very long."

Yugi nodded, leaning back in his chair. "I know the feeling. I can't count the number of times I've been yelled at for spacing when I've been taking to Yami, or even just thinking."

Ryou's laughed trailed off, but he continued to smile and leaned across the table to rest his head in his hands. "Thanks. And thanks for coming out here. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been willing to help."

"Of course I came, why wouldn't I? You're my friend Ryou!"

Ryou's smile shrank. He shifted again, leaning back from the table. "I can't say I've been a very good friend. It was my fault that…Bakura," he hesitated over the name, but knew that was how his Yami talked about himself and how the thief thought of himself, "Almost killed you."

Yugi shook his head, and leaned forward to close the distance again. "You weren't even conscious most of the time. I know how that is. Yami wasn't very nice when he first woke up either. But the only thing that you could be blamed for was becoming my friend, and I don't want to blame you for that. I like you."

Ryou's smile grew again. "Thank you, Yugi." He sighed, and his hand came to rest on his chest, feeling the emptiness. "How do we want to get the Ring back anyway? This is more your thing then mine."

Yugi giggled. A second later, the pharaoh sat where Yugi was, a couple inches taller and a regal bearing that immediately gave the switch away. "Ryou." the pharaoh greeted. "We should leave by noon. When I talked to the headmaster the other day, he seemed far too interested in the ring for his own fight. I don't trust him to help get the ring back without betraying us. The earlier we get moving, the more surprised they'll be."

Ryou nodded. "Dumbledore will think that we are going to wait until he's ready, and if we leave early he won't expect us to leave. And Voldemort won't be expecting us at all."

The pharaoh nodded back. "Exactly. Now, how strong is your connection to the theif? Could you lock onto him while we shadow travel?"

Ryou hesitated. His memory was still a bit spacy, but he thought that he could feel the spirit. He closed his eyes and ignoring the pharaoh in front of him, concentrated on the weak connection he could feel. He hadn't been able to make contact with his Yami while he had been awake, but he hadn't really tried either.

His mind traveled down the spider thin connection, until he meet the spirit.

His yami looked worse for wear, dirty and tired. There were dark bags under his eyes, and he was slumped against the wall in the dark room, his back resting against the dark aging door. He glanced up when Ryou appeared. "Landlord." He greeted. "What do you want?"

Ryou flinched at the tone, dark memories rising to the surface, but he offered a hesitant smile. "The pharaoh wanted to know if I could lock on to your location so he could bring us here to save you."

The thief let out a rough laugh, leaning his head back against the wall. "The pharaoh wants to save me?" he asked in disbelief.

Ryou shrugged, hands fiddling together awkwardly. He wasn't used to seeing his Yami like this, so weak and defeated. He didn't look this bad even after the battle with the Pharaoh. It would seem that whatever Voldemort was attempting to do with the puzzle, keeping them out was a battle the thief wouldn't be able to keep winning. "Well, Yugi does."

A huff was all he received in reply. But the thief's next words gave Ryou helped. "Fine. Here, hold my hand." Ryou moved forward the necessary couple of steps , skittishly hesitant. His hand gripped the ghostly hand of his once tormentor. Immediately he could feel something click. There was a slide of something dark and eerie against his soul.

His eyes blinked slowly, once and then Yugi appeared. He sent a gentle smile Ryou's way, before it transformed into a smirk.

"Ready to fight?" the pharaoh asked.


	9. Chapter 9

Ryou had thought, from the time that he had first realized that the two were separate, that the pharaoh had a way of arousing confidence and loyalty in even the most unwilling, quietest of people. Look at him. No one would say that Ryou was one to stick out his neck-rather he was the one who would linger in the background, a shadow to those in the spotlight. And most of the time, he was happy like that. He saw what happened to those in the spotlight, knew the trouble being in such a position brought and saw the problems that plagued him because his yami was the one in the spotlight.

But when he stood in front of the Pharaoh and saw the gleam of victory in his eyes, he felt himself saying yes, all the while thinking no. He felt a strength inside himself that most of the time he didn't believe existed.

This time was different though. It wasn't just the pharaoh in front of him that made him want to say yes. This evil lord had taken something from him, something so important, Ryou knew he couldn't sit back and wait. He had lost his sister and his mother, and he didn't want to lose his Yami too, no matter how psychotic he could be. The thief had been a part of his life for a long time, and he couldn't picture his life without the semi-controlling presence lingering in the back of his mind pushing him forward. So he said, fully convinced he was making the right choice, "Yes."

The pharaoh smirked, an expression that Ryou was used to being on the receiving side on just before the thief would fall. He held out his hand, and Ryou reached to grab it.

Immediately, the shadows rose to cloud around their feet slowly moving up their bodies. Ryou could feel the wavering feeling of collapsing, then the sharp cold that always accompanied entering the shadow realm. It was different this time, entering with Yami and Yugi, instead of the Thief. The Thief was more preoccupied with his own business when he entered, while the Pharaoh paused once they breached the barrier, and asked,

"Are you okay, Ryou? As I understand, your last visit here wasn't so pleasant."

Ryou gave a small smile. "I'm fine. I'm used to it."

The pharaoh nodded, though there was a glimmer in the back of his eyes that Ryou was more familiar seeing in his own Yami. He ignored it though, reaching out to grip the edge of the Pharaoh's shirt like a child.

THe pharaoh turned to look at him in surprise. Ryou shrugged. "I don't want to get lost. As you said, this isn't my favorite place to be."

Yami nodded in understanding, his attention fading for a moment in a way that meant that Yugi was saying something. Ryou felt another spear of pain shoot through him, missing his own Yami so clearly in that moment, though he knew that only a couple years ago he would have been thrilled with the thief's disappearance. But the fact remained that the thief was a part of his soul, so entwined that once they had met each other, you couldn't separate the two without consequences.

Ryou felt an answering spike down the mental connection he shared with the ancient spirit.

"I have him." he told the spirit he was with, glancing up. "Is this going to be strong enough?"

Yami's eyes narrowed in concentration, and Ryou could feel a foreign touch of shadow against his mind. He was careful not to react, to allow the pharaoh the mobility to feel the connection himself. Finally, he nodded. "I think so. Though I can't feel it well enough to guide us, I believe you can. I will make sure that nothing happens to us here. You just move forward with that place in your mind. The magic should do the rest."

Ryou nodded, and filled his mind with the feelings the thief was broadcasting.

/Landlord./ the thief's words were weak in his mind. /You brought the cavalry?/ The sarcasm that usually underlined the words was absent. Ryou felt his heart flipping nervously.

/I'm fine!/ the thief snapped, reading Ryou's emotion's easily. /These humans can't harm me./

Ryou smiled at the thief's bravado, though he could feel the pain and weakness that permeated the other's thoughts. /We'll be there in a few minutes. Yami's directing the magic. I'm just the guide./

A glimmer of respect sparked in Ryou's mind, but Ryou tactfully ignored it. Soon his feet felt solid ground beneath them again, and the connection to the thief strengthened. Ryou felt adrenaline start to trickle into his system, making him anxious for the adventure yet to come.

He scanned around the dark room they were in. The dark lord everyone feared apparently lived in an expensively elaborate house. The walls oozed money in the same way Kaiba did, though it had an old world feel to it that wasn't typically found Domino City. He tilted his head, feeling his bond to the ring tug at him with insistence.

"This way." He murmured, walking into the dark corridor.

The pharaoh watched as the quiet boy moved on a head, not looking back to see if he was following. He was, of course, but he was pleased to see this new sprig of confidence in Yugi's friend.

/Ryou's always been quiet./ Yugi commented, /But it's nice to see him so sure of himself. I think that the thief is good for him./

The pharaoh felt his eyes roll at Yugi's trust in his friend's darker half. He knew that the theif had never been a nice person, even before he had been consumed by his revenge. He couldn't imagine the other spirit being beneficial to their friend's life…

Though, he had to admit, in recent months, he and Yugi hadn't paid Ryou much attention, even after the ring battle. Ryou's nature had always been to lurk in the shadows, and he and Yugi had just...forgotten.

So maybe there was something to Ryou's desire to "save" his darker half. He sighed. This meant that there would be an apology owed.

Yugi smirked in the back of his mind, recognizing that the Pharaoh had realized what he had been thinking was the truth. /I'm sure he's going to love that./ he teased.

Yami rolled his eyes again. /Sure, Yugi. I'll never hear the end of it./

Yugi smiled. /We're doing the right thing./ he told his other half. /we don't have to understand it, but the Ring is important to Ryou, and if we don't get it back, that headmaster will, and we both know that he didn't seem like he would give it back./

Yami nodded, picking up his pace as the other boy pulled farther ahead. /There is that. If the Ring falls into the wrong hands, we'll just have to come back anyway. This way, our power stays where it should, and out of this mess!/

/I have to wonder though,/ Yugi mused, after two flights of silence, /how this Voldemort found out bout the Millennium items, and why he chose the ring to target. Don't you think our pyramid, Isis's necklace or Malik's scepter would be a greater draw?/

Yami almost tripped over his feet. While he had shared his other's concerns about how the Millennium items were discovered, he hadn't thought about the significance for targeting the ring. But Yugi was right. It couldn't be just about convenience, because there hadn't been any other attempts to grab anyone else's items. It had just been the Ring.

So he had to wonder why.

Ryou finally slowed, and Yami drew up beside the boy. In front of them, there was an expensive living room with immaculate decorations, that at some point would have looked like a model home in a magazine. However, right now the room was full of people quietly murmuring, all gathered around a high backed chair of dark wood. On it sat a tall man with snake like feature. From Ryou's in-drawn breath the Pharaoh presumed that this was Voldemort.

"Is the ring in there?" he asked. Ryou nodded slowly.

"Just past I think."

The pharaoh nodded. "The magic around these parts is interfering with the shadows. If we're going to get through there, we'll have to distract him."

Ryou tilted his head. "How?"

The pharaoh was silent for a moment.

/Yami.../ Yugi spoke up. /That man, their leader, feels weird./

Yami nodded. /I can feel it as well. He has a very dark power. His soul feels fragile./

/This was the evil man that Bakura was talking about? We can't let him go. He already knows about the items. He won't give them up easily./

Yami nodded, already aware. /I am aware, partner./

He spoke aloud. "Bakura, Yugi and I are going to challenge this Voldemort to a shadow game. He's too dangerous to let free. When you get the chance, go to the room to get the ring. If what I believe is right, the ring's power should be bolstered by its bearer and it should return to you on it's own as soon as it's close enough. Let Yami Bakura take over after that."

Ryou nodded, and stepped back, allowing Yami to enter the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The shadows around the ancient king shuddered for a moment before they rose up around his figure, wrapping in shrouded black. The power that saturated him was palpable on Ryou’s tongue, fizzing out to the ends of his hair.

/Stop being such a weakling./ The Spirit of the Ring hissed, feeling the shiver of fear such strong magic provoked in the other. /One might think you’ve never been exposed to it at all./

Ryou winced, but didn’t say anything, knowing that the Spirit would be able to feel the doubt that he had ever felt so much power before at all. But, even had he wanted a fight with his other half, now was not the time. To Ryou’s disbelieving eyes, Yami had walked right into the center of the room to stand before the leader. None of the other cult members had noticed his presence yet, but Ryou could see the leader’s eyes twitching around the room, trying to locate the source of power he clearly felt but could not identify.

Yami remained silent, allowing the stress to build, his presence overwhelming the room. Ryou wasn’t surprised when the leader suddenly got to his feet, his wand waving around, the whites of his eyes ringing red pupils. 

 

“Who’s there?” He hissed. Around him, his followers shuffled, pulling out their wands though they had no idea where to point them. 

Yami’s lips turned up in a smirk as the shadows around him dissolved. To the dark lords credit, he wasted only a second before his wand was pointing at the pharaoh. 

“You have trespassed on what is ours.” Yami said, his deep voice echoing.

“Who are you?” Voldemort asked, ignoring the statement. His wand remained poised, but Ryou could see the curiosity in his eyes. It was clear that the wizard was not comfortable with unexpected guests, but suspected that they would be useful. He was confident in his own power--he believed he could destroy Yami if he wanted to.

It was unfortunate, Ryou mused to himself now that Yami had taken control of the situation, that the man didn’t really know the pharaoh.

/Of course he doesn’t, Landlord./ The spirit complained, /If he did, he’d know better than to force me. He’d be begging for my help./

Ryou rolled his eyes, keeping his eyes on the pharaoh. The other boy had cocked an eyebrow in response to Voldemort’s demand, clearly showing what he thought of being ignored.

//Of course, Spirit.// he agreed. //I’m sure that’s how it would go.//  
“That,” the Pharaoh said, enunciating each word carefully, “is of no concern to you. Now, I demand our Ring back. You have trespassed on what is ours, and we want restitution.”

Voldemort growled. “You demand?” He hissed, “Who are you to demand anything? I am the Dark Lord Voldemort. The Ring is mine!”

To this, his followers shouted their agreement, supporting their lord. A witch with wild hair and a crazy look sidled up to the man every wizard feared. 

“My lord,” she said, bowing, almost grovelling. “It is beneath you to deal with these intruders. Allow--”

The Dark Lord flicked his wand casually to the side, and the woman crumbled with a soft cry of pain. 

“Don’t question my methods, Bellatrix.” He told her softly before looking back at the pharah. “Now again. Who are you to demand of me, the Dark Lord?” He waved the hand that wasn’t holding the wand around the room. “This is mine. You are surrounded by my Death Eaters. Who are you to demand the Ring, the key to eternal life, that is rightfully mine?”

The pharaoh laughed, and Ryou felt his heart clench involuntarily. It was the same laugh Yami made when he had an opponent backed against a wall--it was one he had turned on him too often for it not to affect him. It was full of confidence and arrogance. Ryou was thankful they were on the same side this time. 

The spirit was silent on this thought, and Ryou was thankful he had turned his attention to the standoff between the wizard and the pharaoh. 

“Yours?” The Pharaoh questioned, contempt clear. “The Ring was placed into my keeping before you were a thought. You say a spell and steal it, and you want to call it rightfully yours?”

Voldemort snarled. “I am the most powerful wizard in history! It should belong to me! I don’t know what it was doing in Japan in all places, but I am the one who knows it’s true value.”

The pharaoh let out a deep sigh. “I thought, perhaps, we could reach terms amenable to both of us, but it appears that there can be no discussion here.” Voldemort snarled in the middle of the room, and opened his mouth to speak, but Yami continued talking over it. “What you have done has trespassed on the souls of my friends. Shadow Game!”

The room darkened with shadows, coalescing around the two powerful figures facing off. They swirled lazily around, creating a barrier. Around it, the dark lord’s followers murmured, casting spells that bounced harmlessly back. Ryou let out a sigh of relief when he wasn’t included. 

/Stop dawdling, and come closer!/ The Spirit demanded. /I can’t reach you yet./

Ryou found himself nodding, but the demand had him moving. //How much closer?// he asked, each step careful and quiet. He hugged the outer edges of the room, slowly circling towards the ring. He had a lot of practice going unnoticed.

/Not much./ The spirit answered. /Just a little closer.../

A familiar piercing pain in his chest and Ryou blinked. One moment he was in the middle of a battle with the wizards, the next he was in his soul room. 

//Hey!// he exclaimed. He must have gotten close enough for the Ring to use it’s power. 

/Just stay there. I’ve been trapped there too long. I’ll let you out after I’ve dealt with these bastards./ The spirits voice rang with vicious glee. /The pharaoh even agrees that I have the right of retribution./

Ryou sighed, but he didn’t protest. The spirit would do whatever he wanted--and this way he was sure to make it out. He honestly didn’t mind missing the fight. 

He sat down on his bed, sinking down in the black comforter. There was nothing to do but wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the story is coming to a close. :) There will be either one or two more chapters left. So this is where I ask you, the readers:
> 
> Do you want to see Bakura and Yami let loose? Or stay with Ryou's perspective and return to Hogwarts?
> 
> Just leave your preference in a review, if you have one. This will be open for the next two days, and then I'll post the next chapter on Sunday. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Epilogue

Ryou blinked, the return to his own body disorienting as ever. He was still in the Manor, but the room he was in was empty other than the Pharaoh, who was carefully restacking his cards, making sure each was placed just right before slipping them into his carrier. Ryou blinked again, carefully cataloging his body, looking for any injuries the thief might have caused.

/Stop being ridiculous. I didn’t injure our body. I just got it back./ the thief growled. Ryou looked over at him, the spirit having chosen to take form outside of the Ring. 

“Are you sure?” he asked aloud, not worried that Yugi would judge him for it. “You don’t always notice.”

/The body is fine!/ The spirit snapped. /These weaklings had no chance against my power, once I was back in our body./

Ryou relented, feeling no injuries. He looked over at Pharaoh, who was watching him with an even stare. Yami certainly did not look like he had raided the base of one of the most dangerous wizards in Europe. He looked down at himself once more, cringing when he saw the splatter of blood across his clothes that was absent from the ancient Pharaoh. 

/They deserved it./ The thief muttered. /Anything less than that would be mercy./

Finally, the corner of Ryou’s mouth tilted up in a wry smile. “I guess he couldn’t help it.” He said. 

The Pharaoh nodded, grave, before his form wavered and Yugi was staring back at him, his eyes wide but understanding. “They can’t help it.” he agreed. “Are you okay, Ryou?” he asked.

Ryou smiled wider, the expression looking out of place in his dirtied clothes. “I will be.” he told the other. “Do I want to know what happened?”

He could feel the Spirit of the Ring shift in his head, as though he were about to answer, but Yugi was already shaking his head. “I wouldn’t. I wish I didn’t.”

The thief settled back, with a sullen /They deserved it./ 

Ryou ignored him. That feeling of something missing had gone away, and was replaced with the familiar feel of the ancient being in his mind. He thought briefly of the memories he did have, and wondered if his life would be easier if he didn’t know. But…

//Tell me later?// He asked his other half privately.

He could feel the glee the spirit felt. /Of course!/

“I would imagine.” he agreed out loud with Yugi. “What are the two of you going to do now? Are you going to return to Japan?”

Yugi’s smile dropped to a frown. “Yami wants to go tell Dumbledore, but I’m not sure we should. We aren’t wizards…”

Ryou nodded, “I don’t really want him near the Ring. He might try to take it, or not let me leave.”

/Let him try./ The thief hissed. /I’m so freakin’ tired of these wizards!/

Yugi, though, nodded back in understanding. “Maybe we should just go home?”

“That might be best. Dumbledore is sure to figure out that Voldemort no longer has the Ring… and then they might look for us.”

Yugi grinned, the ghost of the Pharaoh lying just behind it, reckless and daring. “He can certainly try.”

Bakura appeared next to Ryou, tired of being unseen, and threw an equally daring and dangerous grin. “In fact,” the ancient thief said, “I dare them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little anti-climatic... But I finally got around to posting it! Hope you enjoyed!


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